There was a wild light in her eye, and her straight hair was out demonstrating and suffragetting upon some independent notions of its own. It was a moment or two before Gerald realised that he could feel the fluttering of her pulse beneath the light touch he had on her wrist, and that her fingers were trembling in his. He himself had deadened the sound by closing the door. . “I wonder,” he said, and went off at a tangent. She was trying to adjust the wimple, dragging at it and fighting with her loosened hair. “When you married me——” Her little hand flashed out across the table. He was aware of Hilary, in company with Lucilla and the comtesse’s daughter some few yards away, listening in suddenly. Instinctively she knew—some human recollection she had inherited—that she must not disturb him in this man-agony.
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